


The Present

by adelaide_rain



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Affection, Birthday, Celebrations, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Gift Giving, Kissing, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-14 12:21:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5743666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adelaide_rain/pseuds/adelaide_rain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris has never had a birthday, or celebrated Satinalia; celebrations and gift-giving aren't part of a slave's life. When Hawke finds out, he decides to change that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

When Fenris hears footsteps outside his room he tenses, but relaxes just as quickly. He recognises the light steps, the long stride, as Hawke’s.

Not really a surprise; burglars and bandits know better than to attack this mansion, last known to be used by a Tevinter magister, currently home of a strange and scarred elf. If Fenris’s reputation wasn’t enough to put them off, the bodies scattered around the place would be.

They don’t put Hawke off, though. They never have.

And as much as Fenris grumbles about Hawke’s lack of awareness of personal space, he’s glad. Not least because Fenris’s definition of _personal space_ sometimes has a mile-wide radius. If Hawke didn’t push so hard, yet so gently, Fenris would never have let him into his life. He has a knack for knowing exactly how much of a push Fenris needs, and when to back away. 

Which leads them here. Close and getting closer. Sometimes it scare Fenris. He wanted Hawke from the moment he saw him, wanted him with a strength and fierceness that shocked him, that he didn’t even know was possible. Even more of a surprise is that Hawke wants him back, not just for sex, but for… More. He cares about him. Deeply. Fenris sees it in his eyes whenever he looks at him, and it always makes him feel shocked and a little short of breath.

And that _–_ Fenris wants _more_ even more than he wants Hawke’s body. But he isn’t ready yet. The ghosts of his past are still too loud.

Still; he’s always glad to see him.

This time, when he walks through the door, Fenris is take aback. Hawke has a large box in his hands, wrapped in silver paper and tied with golden ribbon. 

“Happy birthday, Fenris,” Hawke says, grinning; a grin that falters slightly when Fenris’s only reaction is to frown at him.

“It’s not my birthday, Hawke. Or perhaps it is,” he says with a shrug. “I told you, I know nothing about my past before Danarius, and he certainly wasn’t interested in my birthday.”

“I know, but you said you wanted to celebrate it a few days before Satinalia,” Hawke says, putting the box down on the table. He looks at Fenris, and then sighs. “You don’t remember, do you?”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” Fenris says but his gaze rests on the table, on what he now realises is a gift. For him. He’s… Touched. Also slightly suspicious. No-one has ever given him a gift before, not out of the goodness of their own heart. Not gifts that were really for him, anyway – things that Danarius wanted to see him in, or see him using. Hawke would never do that, Fenris is as certain of that as he is that the sun will rise. But then – why?

“That night when you won ten sovereigns at Wicked Grace,” Hawke says, and then sighs, running a hand through his hair and looking down at the empty bottle of wine on the table that is now being used as a candleholder. “Ah. It was the same night you had three bottles of wine to yourself. I suppose you _wouldn’t_ remember.” He sits down with a sigh. “I should probably have mentioned it to you before arranging all of this.”

“All what?” Fenris asks, still looking at the gift. He remembers most of the night Hawke is talking about, but the end of it gets a little hazy. He supposes he _could_ have said something about a birthday, but he has no idea how that conversation would have come about. And then he realises exactly how it came about: Hawke. The man is far too easy to talk to. 

“The gifts. The private room at the Hanged Man for all of us. The copious amounts of ale and food. You know. A party.”

“A party,” Fenris says, startled, looking from Hawke to the gift. It makes him feel – strange. Warm. It makes him want to touch Hawke, to feel his cheek, his lips under his fingers. “You arranged a party for me, for my non-birthday.”

“You were saying how you’d never had a birthday before. And I said we should do something nice. You got a bit emotional,” Hawke adds, and has the good manners not to look at Fenris as he says this embarrassing revelation. “There was this look in your eye.”

“What kind of look?”

“A sad look. And I never want you to be sad, Fenris.” Hawke looks up at him, and Fenris feels his heart sprinting in his chest, his throat dry as a desert. Damn Hawke for making him feel like this.  

And yet.  


That desire to touch Hawke is still there. Along with the warmth.  


_Affection,_ Fenris’s mind whispers to him, followed quickly by _Fasta vass_ when he realises that it’s true.  


“I suppose… I suppose I could try it. Having a birthday, I mean,” Fenris says, and gives a shrug, as nonchalant as he can manage. “You seem to see it as important.”

“Birthdays were always important in my family,” Hawke says, smiling. “And since you’re part of the family now, I want you to have one.”

Fenris can’t even acknowledge the family bit. He can’t.

So instead he sits by Hawke’s side and pulls the box to him.

“So - what, do I just open this?”

Hawke beams at him and nods. “Yes! I hope you like it. I wanted to get something special, since it’s your first birthday and all. I mean not your _first_ birthday. Just. The first one you can remember, I mean.”

A smile tugs at Fenris’s lips, quite without his permission, as he unties the ribbon.


	2. Chapter 2

Satinalia is a new thing for Fenris. 

He knew of it of course; Danarius's parties were legendary, and some of the slaves even celebrated it themselves - small gifts of food shared in the kitchens, or something handmade and a prayer by candlelight. Fenris was always by Danarius's side, so he didn't even get that much.

So sitting here in the Hanged Man amongst Hawke's companions, all of them drinking and being characteristically raucous, is... strange. There are candles everywhere with witchlights provided by Merrill. She's even newer to the celebration than Fenris, and she's thrown herself into it with abandon.

There is fruited cake, a selection of cheese and crackers - a Fereldan tradition, apparently - and lots and lots of ale.

Hawke bangs his mug on the table, calling for attention, and he gets it from most of them.

"I know we said no gifts-"

"We did, Hawke, and it's bad manners to give gifts when you've agreed not to," Varric says, watching as Hawke puts a bag full of silver-wrapped boxes on the table.

"Then don't think of them as Satinalia gifts. Think of them as thanks-for-putting-up-with-me gifts."

"Oh, now _that_ I can do," Varric says, and takes the gift that Hawke offers him.

Hawke gives one to Anders, to Merrill; one to Isabela and one to Aveline. All of them are different shapes and sizes, all of them wrapped with varying degrees of proficiency. Most of them have ribbons, and Anders has a small felt cat attached to it, which makes him smile. 

"I got a little one for you, Bethany, since you'll be getting most of yours in the morning."

"You shouldn't have, Garrett," she says, but takes it with a smile and gives her brother a kiss on the cheek. Fenris tries to ignore the jealousy that rises in him at seeing that; it's ridiculous for so many reasons.

"And here's yours, Fenris," Hawke says and he sits back down by his side.

He's offering Fenris a long, slim package, tied with a black ribbon. Fenris looks at it, then up at Hawke.

"But - you gave me gifts yesterday."

"Yes, for your birthday. Or non-birthday. Whatever. But this is for Satinalia. Everyone else gets one so of course you do, too."

After a pause, Fenris takes it, but he doesn't open it. Part of him wants to get angry with Hawke, to say that he doesn't need his affection, he doesn't need anything from him. Part of him wants... So much.

"Thank you, Hawke," he says, so quietly that it's lost under the noise of the others.

===

The next day, Fenris goes to see Hawke at Gamlen's house.  


He leaves it until late in the afternoon, hoping that whatever festive traditions they indulge in will be over by then.

In his hand is a small gift, wrapped in a scarf found in a little-used room in his borrowed mansion.

Hawke might have said he didn't want a gift but Fenris can't - he _can't_ \- accept gifts two days running and give nothing in return.

So he knocks on Gamlen's door and hopes he isn't intruding too badly.

He's relieved when it's Hawke that opens the door; even more relieved when Hawke beams to see him.

"Fenris!" Hawke says, and gives him a hug, so sudden and so unexpected that Fenris doesn't have time to react. "Ah, sorry," he says, pulling back, and then gives a low laugh. "I think I might've had a bit too much wine. Do you want to come in? Have a glass yourself?"

"I - ah-"

"Is that Fenris?" Bethany asks, ducking under Hawke's arm to confirm her guess. Her cheeks are pink and her eyes are sparkling; it looks like all of the family Hawke have indulged in wine today. "Don't leave him standing out in the cold, Garrett! Invite him in!"

"I _did,"_ Hawke is saying, pulling the door open wider, and Fenris can't deny that the warmth of the house is welcoming on this cold Kirkwall day.

"I'll come in for a moment," Fenris allows, and steps inside. As with the Hanged Man, the candles that are a ubiquitous part of the celebration are everywhere. There are cushions on the floor near the fire, gathered around a bottle of wine and a cheese board.

It's as cheerful as Fenris has ever seen this place, even when Gamlen frowns at him and says,

"Oh, so you're here now as well. Do elves even celebrate Satinalia?"

"Gamlen!" Leandra says and glares at him. "Ignore him, dear, take a seat."

"I'm not sure-"

"Please, Fenris," Hawke says. "Your feet must be freezing. At least stay a few minutes."

Fenris's toes clench; he _is_ cold. And if any other part of him wants to stay, he ignores it.

"Just for a few minutes."

He sits, and then realises that he has the gift still clenched in his hand. He doesn't want to give it to Hawke here in front of everyone. Not that it's anything special, or private, just...

He drinks the wine that Bethany has poured for him, and eats some cheese that Leandra offers. Gamlen frowns at him often, but he does the same to everyone else, including the mabari.

After the wine is gone, Fenris is sorely tempted to just leave, to get out of here. There's an itch in him to get away, to be alone - a sense that he doesn't belong here amongst Hawke's loved ones - but he ignores it. Soon he can run, but right now he has to attend to the whole reason for the visit.

"Is there somewhere we can talk?" He asks Hawke, who nods and pushes to his feet, offering Fenris a hand up.

Fenris almost takes it.

They go to a room at the back of the house that Fenris has never been in before. It has a bunk bed that's seen better days, and a table made from scraps of wood. Before he can lose his nerve, Fenris turns to Hawke and thrusts the gift at him.

"Here. For you."

"Fenris," Hawke says, looking at it, turning it around in his hands. The motion captures Fenris's attention; his hands are so big, so strong. A thought flutters through his head about what they'd feel like against his skin, and he glares at a floorboard instead. "You didn't need to."

"I know. But you gave me so many gifts. I had to give you one."

"I didn't do it to get something back."

"No. But- Look, Hawke, I wanted to. Just accept it."

Hawke nods, and pulls open the scarf. Inside is the gift.

Not knowing what to get, Fenris made something instead. He's no artisan but he had leftover materials from repairing his armour, and so made a leather cuff. It's nothing special, but it's something.

"I made it. I hope that's alright. I would have bought something but-"

"I love it," Hawke says, and wraps it around his wrist. It fits perfectly, and he holds it up to look at it, smiling as he does so. His gaze lifts to meet Fenris's eyes, and it feels like his heart flip flops in his chest. Why does Hawke make him feel so - so _much?_ "Thank you so much, Fenris. I - I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything. I should go. I just wanted you to have that."

"I'll treasure it," Hawke says, and means it. Fenris has to look away from the smile on his face.

"Then I - good."

They go back in the main room so that Fenris can give stilted goodbyes. Leandra forces him to take a cloak, and Hawke sees him to the door.

"You could stay, you know," he says, his voice soft, warm and welcoming, but Fenris shakes his head.

"I couldn't."

Hawke leans against the doorframe and looks at him, smiling, his gaze soft. "Maybe next year then."

Their eyes meet and Fenris feels that flip-flop in his heart again.

"Perhaps," Fenris allows, though he can't see any situation in which he would feel comfortable intruding on their family time. "Goodbye, Hawke."

"Goodbye, Fenris."


	3. Chapter 3

Last year, Fenris didn't go out with the others the night before Satinalia.

He thought it would be too awkward after everything that happened.

But Hawke came to the mansion with gift in hand, despite everything, smiling and warm, chipping away at Fenris's defences. He'd thought it best to keep him at arms length for both their sakes; but that night, Hawke made him wonder if it was for the best after all.

Since then, Hawke has been nothing but kind and protective and loyal, all the things that made Fenris care for him in the first place.

And the others - they've been friends. Not all of them; Fenris will never like Anders or Merrill. But the others - he cares about them, too. Not in the same way, and without the aching intensity he feels for Hawke. But he cares, and he never thought he could.

So tonight, on Satinalia Eve, he's in the Hanged Man with all of them, gathered around a large table with an impressive number of empty mugs upon it.

Isabela is telling Merrill about all the places she'll visit when she gets her ship again, and Merrill is listening with wide eyes. When she doesn't know a place, Isabela sketches a map in spilled beer for her.

Varric, of course, is telling a tale of the Champion to a crowd of cheering drunks, and Aveline is snorting in amusement at his embellishments. Anders is listening, too - or not, Fenris thinks. His arms are folded, his eyes unfocused. If he's listening to anyone, it's the demon in his head.

The rest of the pub is already soused with beer, laughter and off-key singing acting as background music. It's too warm from the many, many candles about, but considering it means that Hawke is down to a short-sleeved tunic, Fenris doesn't mind; Hawke's arms are one of his very favourite things to look at, and he turns to look at them now.

Hawke is at the bar, chatting to Corff. The barman himself looks to have had a few beers, his cheeks pink and his smile wide. His gestures are enthusiastic as he tells Hawke something, possibly about pigeons.

Nodding and smiling his thanks, Hawke makes his way back to the table with a tray full of drinks.

He hands them out, leaving Fenris until last.

"I've left the last one for the most handsome man in the room," Hawke says, winking as he offers Fenris the last mug of ale.

A smile tugs on Fenris's lips, spoiling his attempt to give Hawke a withering look. "You're incredibly corny, did you know that?"

"I think you meant devastatingly handsome."

Laughing and accepting the drink, Fenris smiles at Hawke and says, "I might have."

Hawke's gaze softens, and he squeezes Fenris's hand. "You know I think the same of you."

As Hawke sits down he shifts a little, closing some of the gap between them, Fenris takes a gulp of ale and looks at Hawke out of the corner of his eye. Smiling, he wonders if maybe, just maybe, next year will be different.


	4. Chapter 4

When Fenris wakes on Satinalia, his first thought is _warm._

Hawke's mabari is at his feet; the man himself at his back, spooned against him and snoring quietly. His arm is draped over Fenris's waist, strong and heavy, and Fenris takes his hand with a smile.

He is happy. So happy.

He never dreamed that his life could be like this: that he would be loved so completely, that he could accept that love and return it wholeheartedly.

That he could wake in someone else's bed and not want to leave. 

But here is he is, completely at home in Hawke's estate, in Hawke's arms.

Behind him, Hawke moves and groans, his snores cutting off. A dissatisfied grumble at being awake, and then a kiss to the back of Fenris's neck. It makes Fenris smile, both the kiss and the tickle of Hawke's beard.

"Morning, love," Hawke says, adding another kiss, and another. "Happy Satinalia."

"It is," Fenris agrees, and Hawke chuckles, moving closer so that Fenris can feel that he's half-hard.

"Maybe I can make it even happier."

"Let the dog out first," Fenris suggests, and when he does, he welcomes him back to bed _very_  gladly.

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my [fenhawke advent calendar](http://raininginadelaide.tumblr.com/tagged/fenhawke-advent-calendar) over on tumblr. 
> 
> Also: I have a bad habit of giving my birthday to fictional characters. I gave Fenris my birthday in [Finding Home](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4379207/chapters/9940256), and here he is with a winter birthday in my headcanon of the game verse too. It's my firm opinion that Fenris should be lavished with all the gifts.


End file.
